


Dirt and Blood

by elfinmouse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, eggfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:59:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfinmouse/pseuds/elfinmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel can't see how he's being manipulated, but Rachel can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirt and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt on the LJ commentfic community. I lost the prompt itself and who left it. :(

Rachel squeezed her hands into fists as she watched Dean sleep, one arm stretched to curl around the nest of blankets and towels beside him, a bit of red-brown shell peeking out.

She had never seen a human so utterly selfish. 

An angel of God blesses him with his presence, and Dean Winchester has the audacity to order him around like a slave. He calls him for simple, stupid errands. He bleats at him for help the moment he gets a bruise. 

Dean wants information, Castiel provides it. Dean wants backup on a common hunt, Castiel joins him. Dean wants someone to complain to about is petty human troubles, Castiel listens.

Dean Winchester wants a child, and Castiel has to manipulate his vessel to a task it was not meant for. 

Castiel always answers. 

She couldn’t understand why.

Rachel’s teeth ground together as the man sighed in his sleep and clutched the egg closer. He hadn’t even considered Castiel’s obligations and duties in heaven. Hadn’t cared about the effort Castiel would have to go through to so radically change his vessel to accommodate a birth. Gave no thought to asking for such an abomination. Never considered the time Castiel would have to take away from more valuable issues.

For five months Castiel had not even stretched it wings to fly, trapped by the lump of Dean’s dirty human tissue growing inside him. Even now that he’d birthed it, Dean still demanded all of Castiel’s time. On the rare occasion he returned to heaven, Dean’s prayers bleated across the cosmos calling for him to fly back to earth even as his feathers settled in landing.

The rebuilding of heaven had slowed over the past months with Castiel almost constantly on earth. Though clearly it was beyond the Winchester’s ability to understand how much he was needed now. There was no appreciation of what Castiel truly was in him. 

Blood dripped down from Rachel’s palms as her fingernails finally broke the skin. Castiel is an angel and a warrior of God. The wrath and fury of heaven made aware. Not some pet husband. 

Rachel had heard how often Winchester tried to manipulate Castiel against his own brothers. His own kind. The man praised him for obedience and always, always speaking of angels as others, outsiders. Forever excluding Castiel from his true family and dragging him down into Deans. Winchester constantly whispered poison in the guise of family and faithfulness and inclusion, pretending at offering Castiel the safe haven he desired from the mire of angelic politics. 

And poor Castiel had fallen for his con. 

Smiling more than he ever had, even as his brethren suffered from his absence, Castiel doted on his new ‘family’ and blindly changed heaven on their whim. Once he’d urged freewill and obedience to God’s true plan. Once he’d spoken of how God had resurrected him for a purpose. Now he argued for embracing each other as family - to forge new, deeper bonds amongst the Host. 

As though the past was meaningless. As though angels needed to bond like humans for their ties to be worthwhile. As though wasted time in front of a t.v. and newborn abominations surpassed centuries stationed at some distant corner of the universe in constant battle together.

Stepping forward quietly, Rachel reached out and pulled down a baby-blue blanket to expose more of the egg’s shell. Slick and soft at birth, resembling more a thick and fleshy membrane, it had stiffened over time. It was now transitioning from a leather-like flexibility and texture to something harder and more brittle.

Castiel needed to be free of these human’s constant demands. Rachel knew he would never see how the Winchesters, and particularly Dean, were using him as a puppet to put their own will on the workings of heaven.

An angel’s pure skin was not meant for the touch of dirt and blood.

A light touch of fingertips and Dean was too deeply asleep to wake. 

It was only the work of a few moments to tug the egg free from the cocoon of fabric.

Rachel held it in away from herself. It radiated warmth, a constant gentle pulse of Grace throbbed against her palms. The whole egg rocked in her hands as the child within stirred, a weak testing of new limbs.

Rachel let go.

It landed on the floor with a wet crunch. A viscous red fluid flowed sluggishly from the wide split that appeared along one side. A tiny hand, thin-skinned enough to see the veins and bones, slid out. It didn’t move.


End file.
